


Spotless

by Cerulean_Batgirl



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bat Family, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerulean_Batgirl/pseuds/Cerulean_Batgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Batfamily is disturbed by just how tidy Jason keeps his room.</p><p>{And other odd, dorky quirks Jason has}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Organized

“Did you look in there?” Tim inquired as he sipped coffee.

“I did! It's just too weird. I mean, there's no way he actually lives in there.” Dick crossed his arms.

“Maybe you're just jealous because you're the opposite, Grayson,” Damian smirked, staring at his phone.

Dick opened his mouth, ready to respond to Damian, “I am not-”

“What are you boys arguing about now?” Bruce dragged himself into the kitchen, clearly tired from last night's patrol. His eyes were scrunched up, showing obvious distaste with the morning sunlight.

“It's...nothing.” Dick shrugged.

Bruce sighed. “Why is Jason on your mind?” Dick looked away in irritation. He was almost surprised, but it was Bruce, after all.

It had been a few weeks since Damian's return, which brought numerous changes to the Wayne household dynamic. For instance: Damian's new...abilities, Dick's return, Bruce's promise to be more honest, and Jason's willingness to be around the manor. Tim was just along for the ride. Bruce had suggested that Jason redo his bedroom, for those nights when he was too tired (or injured, Bruce had thought worriedly, though he would never admit that) to make it back to his apartment.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Jason sort of agreed and shrugged off the question. Bruce noticed Jason's eyes light up at the suggestion. Later that week, Jason went off with Alfred to purchase furniture and decor. While Tim and Damian were apprehensive about their new occasional resident, they realized that Jason wasn't too bad of a brother to live with. A bit vulgar, perhaps. Interestingly enough, Damian formed an odd sort of relationship with him, and found him to be a rather pleasant person to live with overall.

The problem was not at all living with Jason. 

"It's just too weird, Bruce!" Dick whined. How his twenty five year old son was still somehow capable of letting out such a childish noise was a mystery even the Batman could not solve.

Bruce rolled his eyes, confused by his oldest son's strange comment. He shot a hopeful glance at Tim. Tim rolled his eyes in return. _World's Greatest Detective, my ass,_ he couldn't help but think. _He's_ _completely_ _lost._

Without missing a beat, Tim spoke. “We, Dick particularly, think it's really odd that Jason keeps his room so clean. He constantly cleans in general.” Bruce closed his eyes for a moment. “Haven't you noticed? He literally cleans everything.” Bruce pondered, _Jason was once a disorganized kid, but not unusually so. He's an adult now, so why shouldn't he have different habits?_

“Have you ever considered that Jason simply likes keeping everything in order?” Bruce let out a long sigh.

“He's been living here for several weeks and I've never seen anything out of place,” Dick waved his arms around, as if it would prove his point, “only when he's sleeping is his bed even remotely messy!”

“I'm actually pretty impressed by it,” Tim added. His bedroom was usually somewhat habitable, with a small mess of books laying in piles and pieces of tech strewn about.

“Go see for yourself,” Dick turned away, exasperated. His room was always a complete disaster zone. It baffled Bruce how Dick could find anything in the wreck, let alone live in it. Actually, his apartment was also a wreck when he lived away from the manor. “I went to his apartment last week – it was CRAZY neat in there! It's disconcerting.”

“I am not going to look into his room,” Bruce adamantly declined the suggestion. He could barely hear Jason's footsteps coming down the stairs. “Anyway, is there any coffee left for me?” Bruce asked, changing the subject. He walked over to the counter, mussing Damian's hair as he walked by. The gesture was met with a quiet “-tt”, but was not rejected, much to Bruce's amusement.

“Yo,” Jason dragged himself into the kitchen, exhausted. His arms were covered in bandages, most of them injuries from last night. Bruce quickly glanced at them, trying to hide his concern.

“Coffee?” Bruce offered.

“Nah.” Jason reached up into the cabinet where the tea was kept. “Thanks though.” Another interesting preference of Jason's. Jason turned to look at Damian, lifting up the tin of looseleaf slightly. Damian nodded, expressing his desire for tea as well. Zero verbal communication.

Yes. Oddly enough, Damian seemed to enjoy having Todd around the house.

 _Perhaps_ _coming back_ _to life was all it took_ _for a friendship to be formed_ , Bruce mused. He paused after the thought. _This_ _family is weird._

 


	2. Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spot of tea can't hurt.

“It's like you have OCD!” Dick laughed.

“Obsessive compulsive disorder,” Jason corrected, “is a mental health disorder that would disrupt the way a person lives their life day to day. I just like keeping my room clean.” Jason adjusted his ceramic tea set with dedicated precision. “Asshole,” he added with satisfaction. Dick raised his eyebrow at Jason. “What? I'm fucking educated,” Jason defensively shrugged.

“Hello.” A quiet voice spoke. Jason rapidly whipped around to find a small Asian girl staring up at him. No, just a slim young Asian woman, he re-evaluated with curiosity. She looked up at him with large, shining brown eyes. The atmosphere around her demeanor was extremely mature, in contrast. The two stood in awkward silence, analyzing each other, until Jason shot a glance at Dick.

“Oh, right. This is Cassandra Cain. Black Bat.” Dick introduced. “Cass. She lives here now! Get acquainted.” He waved cheerfully as he walked out of the room, leaving the two birds alone. Jason cursed his brother's carefree attitude.

“Ah. Hi. Weren't you that quiet Batgirl?” Jason awkwardly greeted. "Black Bat now, huh?"

Cassandra nodded. “Yes.” They both stood still. Jason stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to say something to break the ice.

Jason nervously grinned. “The one that beat the shit out of me that one time?” Fuck.

“Yes.” Cassandra smiled.

“You caught me off guard.” Jason defensively added, his smile falling.

“Okay.” Cassandra walked over to the tea set as Jason huffed in defeat. She looked at the ceramic cups, slowly picking up the red one decorated in white flowers. She stroked the path of the design carefully, admiring the handiwork. “Bruce makes excuses too. I don't mind though.”

Jason's breath hitched. “Wait, you beat Bruce in combat...on a regular basis?” Cassandra nodded innocently. “Holy fucking shit,” Jason laughed, “That's so cool.” Cassandra slightly blushed, still feeling somewhat new to receiving flattery. “Do you have to be somewhere?”

“No.” Cassandra nodded, still gently cradling the cup.

“What kind of tea do you like?” Jason grinned. Cassandra shrugged, unsure of how to answer.

“Don't know.”

“Well, then, I guess we can find out.” Cassandra carefully placed the teacup exactly where Jason had arranged it previously, much to his surprise. “You don’t have to place it perfectly,” Jason spoke. “They’re mostly for decoration.”

“You will move it. Must be perfect.” Cassandra crossed her arms. Jason sighed in agreement. “You like it perfect.” She glanced around his room. “Calms you.” When Jason opened his mouth to protest, Cass cut him off, “It’s okay. Me too.” Jason retracted his thoughts and walked over to the shelf, sifting through his impressive tea collection. He selected a couple boxes and gestured at the door.

“After you, Miss Cain.” Cass walked over to Jason and winked.

“Miss Cain-Wayne, please.” Jason nearly dropped his tea. He chuckled as she walked by. The two spent their evening sharing stories and tasting various teas, with Jason preparing the cups while explaining their ingredients the whole way. By the end of the night, nearly every member of the Wayne household had joined in.

Alfred woke up early the next morning, as usual. He expected a complete disaster to clean up after the nocturnal Wayne family, only to find that all of the kettles and teacups were already washed, dried, and put away properly. He noted the shiny exterior of the table, indicating someone had carefully polished it after their little tea party. He realized that even the tiles had been wiped, noticing the lack of any liquid or crumbs on the floor. He noticed a lone teacup, sitting on the counter. A slip of paper next to it read "To Alfred". He looked into the cup and saw the loose tea was prepared for his morning. After he finished boiling the water and brewing the tea, he went outside to sit on the patio. Alfred slowly sipped, smiling blissfully the whole time. There was no doubt in his mind as to who would be considerate enough to clean up with such precision. He made a mental note to prepare Master Jason's favorite breakfast sometime soon.

Alfred was pleased that he had managed to pass down his cleaning habits to at least one member of the Wayne household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comments.


	3. Teacups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce can't take it anymore. He has to find out for himself.

A week had passed, and Bruce was really starting to wonder. “Does Jason really keep it that clean, Alfred?” He inquired. Casually, of course.

“Master Bruce, I have never gone into his room for longer than a minute to clean.” Alfred smiled. “And I never have to clean up after him.”

“That is...unusual.” Bruce looked at him, stunned. “Even Cassandra doesn't keep it that clean.”

Now Bruce was extremely curious.

Later that night, Jason sped out of the batcave on his motorbike. Something about Roy and Kori? The crooked grin on Jason's face had indicated it was more of a leisurely situation.

As Bruce walked over to his study, he couldn't help but stop at Jason's door. Bruce mulled over the repetitive, nagging thoughts in his head. This is stupid, he decided, standing at the door. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Bruce sighed and admitted defeat to his curiosity. Bruce gently turned the doorknob and peered into the empty room. 

He found it to be immaculate, absolutely devoid of any clutter. His boys really weren't exaggerating. He quietly walked in, all of his previous reservations left behind in awe. Not even a speck of dust on the furniture. Bruce was shocked to find things of culture in the room. An intricate tea set, classic novels, and antique weaponry were the main focal points of the room. Fresh flowers were even placed in a vase on the nightstand. A deliberately chosen color scheme of muted reds, browns, and whites was apparent in the room. The staging of the room was almost professional. Bruce glanced into Jason’s closet. All of his clothes, perfectly hanging or folded. He was surprised to find an expansive tea collection, sitting on one of the shelves. He hadn’t realized to what extent Jason enjoyed tea. He picked up a few of the boxes. He partially read some of the labels, wondering how Jason could possibly discern all of these types. The prior week’s tea tasting social made a little more sense to Bruce now. Clearly, tea was something Jason held very dear to his heart. It comforted him, knowing that Jason was slowly growing closer to the family. Even if it was just a little bit at a time.

After the discovery, Bruce turned his attention to the tea set. Bruce walked over to it, looking at the set of tiny cups and heavy kettle. He assumed the style had an Asian influence, probably Japanese. He stared at the small tools in the set for a moment. Bruce drew a blank to their names, ignorant of some of their uses. He gingerly lifted one of the cups, observing the delicate details along the side, continuing even into the inside of the cup. Bruce allowed himself a few more minutes of standing in the room, taking in the calm atmosphere. Bruce kept looking at the cup.

It was likely handcrafted. Expensive, but not in perfect condition. Jason probably bought it from an antique store himself, and not on the furniture shopping trip with Alfred. Bruce could smell a faint flowery scent from the cup. Jason utilized these cups sometimes, he mused. By himself, in the privacy of his space. Last week’s tea party had been an unusual occurrence. Bruce silently wished Jason would share this side of him more frequently.The thought made him look at the door, suddenly aware that Jason could return home at any moment. Bruce sighed deeply, feeling oddly at peace in Jason’s room. Bruce placed the tea cup back onto the tray and then slowly backed out of the room, disappointed in his need to leave. He nearly jumped when he found three of his sons standing outside. Their blue eyes looked at him expectantly.

“I knew the curiosity would kill you.” Dick grinned.

“Honestly, Tim?” Bruce saw a shadow shift in the corner of his eye. “Cassandra?” Bruce glanced over. Cassandra vacated her hiding spot and smiled sheepishly. “Really, you too.” She shrugged.

“It’s super nice in there though, right?” Tim asked as he almost started laughing at Bruce. Dick began to actually laugh. Bruce felt his eye twitch in irritation. He very much wanted to go back into Jason’s room immediately and lock the door. For the rest of the week.

“I say we destroy the room while Todd's gone.” Damian smugly suggested. Damian likely had his eye on those antique swords.

Cassandra lightly hit him on the head. “You don't mean that.” Damian growled under her hand. “You like your big brother.” Bruce was amused at Damian's flustered expression, rapidly swatting her hand off. Jason and Damian really did have more in common than he anticipated.

Bruce gently closed the door, reconsidering his impression of the current Jason. Maybe he would one day pursue a career in interior design. The thought almost made Bruce grin. He forced it down. Just barely.

 


	4. Busted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no way Jason didn't notice. Nice one, Bruce.

“Okay, who the hell was in my bedroom?” Jason walked into the living room, hands dramatically placed on his hips. Bruce awkwardly shifted on the couch, muttering ‘language’ under his breath. The boys were all looking in varying directions away from Jason. Cass knowingly smiled as she continued reading.

“Me,” Cass falsely admitted, not looking up from her book. Cass selflessly took the fall; Bruce nearly teared up with pride. Jason clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disagreement.

“That’s a lie. You’re sharp enough to place my stuff back with absolute perfection.” Cass drooped her head significantly, causing her bangs to fall over her eyes. Her reading was most definitely interrupted now. Bruce tried to pretend he was reading a file, cursing his son’s abnormal organization skills and his daughter’s ridiculous ability to match them. Jason tapped his foot impatiently. “Fuck, Bruce, I know it’s you. You left your phone in there.”

Bruce’s eyes slightly widened. The Dark Knight did NOT make rookie mistakes. He instinctively patted his pockets to find his phone safe and sound. Bruce growled. “That was childish.”

“And it still works perfectly on you.” Jason smirked. “After all this time, who knew,” Jason added triumphantly. 

“Still, I wasn’t in there.” Bruce frowned. Very weakly, Jason noticed.

“Really, Bruce? You're really going to keep running with this lie? You didn’t place the cup exactly where I left it. Not even close. You even moved the boxes in my tea collection. You do realize I have a certain system, right?” Bruce groaned, feeling somewhat humiliated. Batman was actually defeated from not being observant enough. “So, why were you snooping?!” 

Bruce protested, “Because they-!” He cut off when he realized that Dick, Tim, and Damian had all conveniently snuck out of the room during the confrontation. 

“They’re gone.” Cass nonchalantly stood, grabbing her book and blanket. She walked out of the room.

“All traitors,” Bruce grumbled, feeling betrayed, “They are definitely so grounded...Especially Dick.”

“Way to blame the 25 year old kid. And the rest of the kids," Jason crossed his arms disapprovingly, "Old man." He continued staring down Bruce until he received an explanation.

Bruce sighed, giving in to his son’s demands. “I was curious.”

“About what's in there?” Jason huffed defensively. “Dead bodies? Drugs? Guns? Cigarettes?”

“...Your tidy behavior,” Bruce confessed. Jason nearly fell over.

“Excuse me?”

Bruce buried his face into his hands in shame.


	5. Bubbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred is feeling rather unwell, so Jason decides to take matters into his own hands.

Alfred was feeling tired this morning. He frequently felt tired as of recent; however, today was especially rough. With a crime-fighting spree all week, several all day events Master Bruce had to attend, and the family all fending for themselves with food, well...Alfred depressingly sank into bed in dismay.

The house was a battle zone. Dust was accumulating, the kitchen was a mess, and the rest of the manor was anything but organized. Even the usually orderly batcave was in shambles. 

Alfred Pennyworth: family, lifesaver, and butler to the Wayne household, was wishing to be anywhere but his current location. He slowly began to sit up, gathering courage to face the rest of his day; his first calm day in a while. He was shocked when a nasty coughing fit overtook him. He continued for what seemed like several minutes, feeling overwhelmingly foggy the whole time. He was so tired, his eyelids could barely stay open.

A quiet creak came from the door. Alfred tensed, wondering who would possibly enter his room at 5:00 am. The door slowly opened. A young man emerged, with a mug in his hand.

“Master Jason?” Alfred whispered, bewildered. Jason gently closed the door behind him and walked over to Alfred. 

“Here. It’s honey tea, for you. And some medicine.” Jason handed Alfred the mug and placed a bottle of medicine on the nightstand. Alfred looked up, puzzled. “I heard you coughing in your sleep,” Jason shyly admitted.

Alfred cautiously sipped the hot tea. “It’s delicious, thank you.” Alfred smiled gratefully. Jason returned the smile. “Now then…” he began to stand up.

“I don’t think so,” Jason sternly said, pushing Alfred back onto the bed.

“But the manor-” Alfred started to speak.

“I can take care of it,” Jason reassured, “You’re getting sick. Rest.” He forcefully spoke, almost with a low growl. Alfred couldn’t help but chuckle. His mannerisms almost perfectly mimicked Master Bruce’s. He lay back down into bed, sighing. “I don’t want you to even think about doing work today, Alfie.” Jason scolded.

“Yes, yes, Master Jason.” Alfred sighed again defeatedly. When had this little boy become such a considerate young man? Alfred thought about arguing with him, but within minutes he was already asleep.

He awoke several hours later to the sounds of the boys shouting at each other.

~~

“Quit your pouting brat, and just do it!” Jason yelled. Damian grumbled and stomped over to the bookshelves, dusting each one. “Hurry up, I have to wash the floors in there when you’re done.” Jason tossed an old rag into a bucket. “Ayooo Replacement! How is the cave looking?” He shouted at the staircase to the batcave.

“Nearly there! Just finishing up!” Tim’s voice echoed. Jason hummed as he grabbed the rag from the bucket and began washing the floor in the hallway.

“No fair. You can’t even see if Drake’s working,” Damian mumbled.

“I actually believe Tim, unlike you.” Jason smirked. Damian shrugged in a somewhat approving manner. “And Dick. He’s also a liar when it comes to housework.” Dick responded with a disagreeable shout from the kitchen.

“That’s fair. I suppose,” Damian added as he continued wiping down the dust in the room.

Jason continued scrubbing the floors as he yelled to Dick, "Are you finishing up in the kitchen?"

"I haaaate doing dishes!" Jason rolled his eyes at Dick's exaggerated whiny tone. Always the performer.

"Sucks for you!" Jason unsympathetically shouted back, which earned him another loud groan from the kitchen. Jason didn't bother responding.

“No dust in Bruce’s study.” Cassandra appeared on the staircase, twirling a bright pink feather duster. Jason held up his hand. Cass proudly gave him a high five.

“Jason…” Bruce trudged into the hall, his socks, the bottom portion of his pants, and his shirt sleeves soaked.

“Bruce, what the hell?” Jason stared as Bruce bit his lip, looking irritated. Cass’ mouth twitched into an amused grin.

“I need help,” Bruce grouchily spoke.

“Well, clearly,” Jason retorted, “What do you need, some therapy?” That earned him a signature bat-glare from the Batman himself. Dick cackled from the kitchen, amused by the banter. Damian simply observed the scene, curious as to his Father’s disorderly appearance. Jason was almost positive he could sense Tim watching the security feed of the room.

“The laundry is broken.” Bruce’s face was flushed as he delivered the statement. Jason rolled his eyes. He walked over to the laundry room, followed by Bruce, and was stunned by the state of the location. The floor was covered in water, bubbles, and wet articles of clothing. The machine was overflowing, with bubbles still being produced and water sputtering out.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bruce!” Jason yelped, splashing his way to the washing machine. He managed to shut it off, turning to glare at Bruce. Bruce nearly leapt back; he was almost shocked to see his signature expression mirrored perfectly on his son’s face. Especially over laundry. “How much detergent did you put in?!”

Bruce scowled back at Jason, crossing his arms. Jason held back a smile, he could absolutely see Damian mimicking the gesture. “I’m not completely dumb, Jason, I put in the whole bottle for the entire load of laundry!” Jason pinched his nose as he attempted to stifle his laugh. He covered his mouth, trying to hold back giggles. He took one more look at the washer, covered in bubbles, and knew he wouldn’t be capable of that. In a moment of weakness, Jason let go, allowing his uncontrollable, deep laughter to suddenly echo throughout the manor. The rest of the family went silent for a moment, listening to the unfamiliar sound.

“B-Bruce,” Jason wheezed, “You didn’t even separate the colors. I see a white shirt and navy pants in there.” Tears built up in his eyes as he continued laughing. Jason thumped in the washer in an attempt to stop as Bruce rapidly became more embarrassed. “Holy shit, Bruce, Alfred really does do everything around here.”

~~

Alfred smiled as he stood in his open doorway, listening to the sounds of Master Bruce’s protests and Master Jason’s mocking laughter.

Yes, he really does do everything around here. But in moments like this, he really doesn’t mind.


	6. Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Bruce woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, feeling more rested than he’d felt in a long time."
> 
> Jason has a nice apartment.

Bruce awoke to a blurred darkness surrounding him. Bruce groggily mumbled to himself, pushing against the pressure on top of him. “Stop that.” An exasperated voice cut through the silence. Bruce pushed against the source of the pressure once more. “YO, WHAT DID I JUST SAY.”

“Mmmfmn?” Bruce tried to enunciate his frustration, but found he couldn’t express himself. The figure pressed something onto him yet again. Bruce hazily registered the object as a thick blanket.

“Quit moving, Bruce. You were drugged and beat up. You’re out of commission for the next couple hours.” A loud sigh. “Fuck, why did you have to be close to MY apartment?”

Bruce wasn’t quite sure where he was, but decided to attempt to talk again. “Thhhnnss.”

The figure looked at him, bewildered. “You’re welcome. I think?” The tension in the figure seemed to fade slightly, his shoulders drooping into a more relaxed position. Bruce stopped struggling and allowed his eyes to close, falling into a deep slumber.

\-----

Bruce woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, feeling more rested than he’d felt in a long time. The feeling only lasted a short moment. Bruce attempted to sit up in the bed. “Urghh,” he grunted with displeasure. He looked down to find himself with an exposed upper body, riddled with freshly stitched wounds.

A sense of panic suddenly took over Bruce’s senses. Wherever he was, the figure had already found out who he was, and actually helped him out. Bruce glanced around the room, careful to not tear open his wounds. The room was neat. Far too neat to be one of Dick’s apartments, Bruce frowned. It was certainly not Tim’s apartment, Bruce concluded as he looked at the several thriving potted plants in the room. All of these plants were healthy, with colorful budding flowers to match. A delicate curtain rose and fell with the breeze, giving the minimalist-style room a fresh and serene feel. Only the distant sounds of cars honking and police sirens gave away the restlessness of Gotham. He quietly pushed himself out of bed, opening the door. Bruce decided to take a peek.

He noiselessly slid out of the room to find a man facing the open window, holding a metal bowl. “Not funny, guys.” A trail of cigarette smoke floated above him. Bruce could see that on the window ledge, two cats were sitting and pawing at the young man. “Quit trying to knock the bowl down. This shit costs money, you know.” The cats meowed back, as if responding to the young man’s plea. The felines leapt into the room through the window. “Alright, alright, sheesh. Whatever.” He whistled out the window, and to Bruce’s surprise, several more cats jumped through. He shut the window when the last cat, a skinny orange tabby, made it into the apartment. Bruce counted a total of seven cats. The young man slowly turned around, quietly laughing to himself. He dropped the bowl when he made eye contact with Bruce.

Bruce forgot that he was supposed to be sneaky. The cats all meowed, ignoring the man and began to eat the scattered food. “Jason.” Bruce awkwardly greeted. Jason rolled his eyes and looked at the floor, his white streak of hair covering his eyes.

“I hate it when you do that.” Jason irritably smashed the remnants of his cigarette into the nearby ash tray. Bruce bit back a concerned comment. “Vultures, I swear.” Jason huffed as he knelt down to pick up the upside-down bowl. “Now there are crumbs everywhere…” Jason mumbled to himself. The cats surrounding Jason all meowed up at him, indicating they had finished the kibble. “You eat more than I do.” A paw batted at Jason’s arm. “Stop that.” Bruce looked at his somewhat volatile son, stunned with his oddly peaceful behavior. “What?” Jason raised an eyebrow at Bruce.

Bruce cleared his throat, attempting to look more serious. “What happened last night? The only thing I recall is Killer Croc. And Poison Ivy.”

“Do you recall him literally beating the fuck out of you? And her almost drugging you into the afterlife? Bruce, it wouldn’t kill you to call for backup when you go after someone. I’m sure Golden Boy misses spending time with you.” Jason stroked the orange tabby’s head. The cat purred in response.

Bruce paused, trying to formulate his exact words. “What if...I called you next time?”

Jason looked up at Bruce in surprise. After a long pause, he nodded with slight hesitation. Bruce felt an odd burst of warmth in his chest. “Sure, whatever. I guess.” Bruce felt an unusual urge to ruffle his adult son’s hair. Jason must have seen the look in Bruce’s eyes as he preemptively warned. “Don’t,” Jason growled.

Bruce did it anyway. 

\-----

“So this is your apartment, hm.” Bruce glanced at the books on Jason’s shelf. He was shocked to find a large portion of the shelves were dedicated to literature with Shakespeare, antique weaponry, and interior design. He noticed a decorative tea set, carefully placed on its own shelf. Bruce could hear the sounds of Jason chopping up something in the kitchen. “Are you...cooking?”

“No, I’m practicing my knife fighting,” Jason sarcastically drawled, “Of course I’m cooking.” Bruce frowned as Jason huffed, focused on rapidly slicing green onions.

“...What are you making?” Bruce decided to ignore Jason’s incessant need to insert sarcasm into every conversation. 

“Omelettes. Toast. Um.” Jason paused. “I might cut up some vegetables too.”

“I wasn’t aware you could cook,” Bruce remarked with wonder.

“Alfie sends me recipes from time to time,” Jason replied, “It helps that they opened up the farmers market a neighborhood away. The people are all pretty cool, sharing secrets and stuff.” The pan sizzled as Jason poured the eggs onto the pan. Bruce pulled up a stool from below the cooking island, observing Jason. Without a word, Jason pushed over a mug, gesturing to the warm coffee pot. 

Bruce started to think that maybe he did die.

Bruce imagined Dick coming home with Barbara and their several rowdy, far too clever children. Jason talking about how his small restaurant was expanding. Maybe even teasing Tim about his height. Tim protesting with how his degree is far higher than Jason's height, figuratively speaking. Damian and Cassandra playing with the Grayson-Gordon children, chasing them around the manor. Alfred would scold them for breaking yet another lamp somewhere. Bruce could just sit on the sofa and observe, sipping on his coffee eternally.

“You have a weird look on your face,” Jason cut into Bruce's daydream.

“Hm?” Bruce grunted as he realized he had been aimlessly staring at his coffee for likely a few minutes. “It’s nothing.” Jason made a doubtful noise as he placed the omelette in front of Bruce, topped with colorful vegetables. Bruce looked up at him.

“What? I like to eat healthy.” Bruce couldn’t hold back his amused smile. “Stop. Just stop!” Jason protested, sitting down with his own plate of food. He stuffed the food into his mouth, reminding Bruce of how differently he ate from all of his other children, especially back when he first began to live in the manor. “How is it?” Jason mumbled out, not quite finished with chewing his food. He coughed anxiously.

Bruce took a bite. “The greatest meal I’ve ever had.”

“Liar.” Jason’s tone was sharp, but Bruce noticed Jason’s cheeks turn a distinct red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate your comments! Thanks for reading.


	7. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason just loves Christmas.

“I LOVE CHRISTMAS!” Dick cheered as he slid down the banister.

“I know, Grayson. You have said it only about four thousand times this month,” Damian grumbled as he trudged down the stairs. “Stop screeching.”

Bruce stood in the living room, his hands in his pockets as he stared at the raging blizzard outside the window. His typical black turtleneck contrasted with the blinding white snow. He adjusted his stance as the boys walked in, now looking towards the doorway.

“Good morning.” Bruce greeted. “You two are up early.”

Damian’s posture became more formal. “Hello, Father. Grayson demanded I follow him for this ludicrous holiday.”

Bruce smiled. “On the contrary, Damian. I think Christmas is nice. It was my favorite when I was your age. And even Gotham seems to take a break on Christmas.” Damian grunted, unable to argue with Bruce. “...Good morning, Tim.” 

Wrapped in a red blanket, Tim sluggishly approached into the room, his hair standing in every direction. “You people are so loud,” Tim whined. Dick pulled Tim into a tight hug. “Let go.”

“Merry Christmas, Timmy!” Dick sang loudly.

“It’s too early for this shit,” Tim mumbled, but didn’t fight the hug. Alfred and Cassandra walked into the room, both chuckling at the sight of a grumpy Tim.

“Hurry up, Grayson,” Damian tapped his foot, glaring at his oldest brother. 

“Aw, Dami! Are you excited?!” Dick shifted away from Tim, spinning over to ruffle Damian hair.

“Unhand me,” Damian hissed defensively, “And that is completely false.” Damian’s eyes quickly darted to the presents.

“Sure thing, Dami.” Dick winked at Bruce. Dick knelt down, shifting one of the presents with his name on it. It was surrounded by five additional presents, all wrapped similarly. “Why don’t we open these first?” Damian timidly nodded, but did not move. Dick took the lead and tore open the first gift, hoping Damian would follow. Folded material fell out of the wrapping onto Dick’s lap. Dick unfurled the material, curious as to what it was.

Dick held the bundle of material away from himself in shock, as if it were poisonous.

“Who bought us these...interesting sweaters?” Dick nervously smiled, looking at the navy blue sweater. It was cluttered with teal polka dots, red stripes, white zigzags, and even sparkling gold threading. “This looks like it could cause blindness...really.” Even for him, the design was a bit...much.

“Oh man...it’s gross!” Tim bluntly remarked as Dick elbowed him in the abdomen. “What? It’s true.” Tim suspiciously unwrapped another similarly shaped gift. “Oh my God,” he held up the second sweater. This one was dark red, with a tacky pattern of white birds sitting on colorful Christmas lights. 

“These are atrocious,” Damian grimaced as he unwrapped his gift. This one was dark green, patterned in dozens of shimmering silver cats, adorned with red bows on their necks. Damian made a vomiting noise. “This is what you get excited for every year? -Tt-.”

“Well, no, not quite-” Dick stuttered.

Cassandra opened hers to find a tasteful gold sweater, covered in white glittery snowflakes. “Lovely.” She smiled as she gratefully held the material to her chest.

“How come she got a nice one?!” Dick whined. Bruce, Damian, and Tim threw Dick a distressed look. Cass playfully stuck her tongue out at Dick, who returned the gesture.

“Bruce…” Dick chuckled, “I think there’s one for you.” Bruce unwittingly let out a choking noise. Tim handed him the wrapped gift.

Bruce unwrapped it to find a hideous fuzzy black sweater with a dancing snowman. “Wow, this is really....something.”

“Pennyworth, this is ridiculous.” Damian huffed, looking at the sweater.

“Alfred, this is not funny.” Bruce looked at Alfred, who raised a brow.

“Me, sir? I did no such thing.” Alfred smiled innocently. “I simply assisted with the wrapping.”

“What?” Bruce muttered.

A loud clatter came from the kitchen. Tim jumped to his feet, clutching at his sweater. “Is someone else here?!”

“Relax, Master Tim.” Alfred turned back towards the kitchen. “I couldn’t dream of cooking Christmas dinner all by myself.”

No one had entered or exited the manor since the blizzard began last night. Bruce walked to the kitchen, puzzled by Alfred’s statement. The rest of the boys followed, trailing Bruce like baby ducks. They all leaned into the doorway together, observing the source of the noise.

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart,” A deep, smooth voice sang quietly in the kitchen. “But the very next day, you gave it away.” Jason Todd, dressed in what could possibly be the ugliest Christmas sweater in existence, was taking cookies out from the oven. “This year, to save me from-”

“Oh no,” Tim facepalmed. “This makes so much sense.”

“What is that horrid article of clothing?” Damian smirked. “Is Todd possessed?”

“That may be the ugliest thing I have ever seen,” Dick loudly remarked. Jason spun around, a hot tray of cookies in hand. Jason sweater was dark green, with a giant red nosed reindeer on the front. Actual tinsel appeared to be poorly sewn onto the material, and Rudolph almost looked deformed. There were even fake tiny plastic Christmas lights wrapped around the tinsel. Bruce was almost disappointed it didn’t have real lightbulbs.

Jason mouth was open in shock for barely a moment until he retorted, “Says the one who has worn the least sensible outfit in existence while fighting crime.” Jason placed the cookies on the stove. “Sup.” He awkwardly paused, slowly waving his oven mitted-hands. “M-merry Christmas, I guess.” Silence extended over the family.

Cassandra bounced into the kitchen, wearing her new sweater. “Jay!” She smiled, her eyes sparkling.

“Heya, Cass.” Jason returned the smile. “How’s the sweater?”

Cassandra hugged her own arms and laughed. “Warm. Sparkles. Love it!” She leaned into Jason, embracing him in a grateful hug. “Thank you. My first Christmas present.” Jason blushed, surprised by the affection.

“No problem...lil sis.” Jason shyly responded as Cass beamed, quietly whispering ‘lil sis’ to herself.

Damian scowled. “Well I, for one, am not happy with my gift.” Cassandra turned around and shook her head at Damian. Damian responded with a “Tt-!”

“Sucks,” Jason grinned. “No returns.”

“I expect everyone to go change into Master Jason’s wonderful gift,” Alfred smiled as the boys gasped, then made gagging noises. “Immediately,” Alfred said, with a little more force in his voice. "Or there will be no more gifts." The boys fled the scene as Bruce continued to sip his coffee.

Yet another awkward silence spread through the kitchen. “...You too, Bruce,” Jason grinned.

“I don’t think so,” Bruce declined.

“I do think so,” Alfred instructed, “otherwise you will not be eating Christmas dinner tonight, Master Bruce.”

Bruce looked up at the ceiling. Then back down at his coffee. Again, back at Jason. “Aw, I handpicked those presents, Bruce. You hurt me.” Jason grinned. “Any day now, pop.” Bruce’s mouth hung open in surprise. Jason’s eyes opened a little bit wider. “Uh-um-I-uh…” Jason stuttered.

Bruce coughed, cutting off Jason's stammering. Stunned, Bruce turned out of the kitchen to go change into his hideous sweater. 

Needless to say, the Christmas photos were extremely interesting that year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....they all kept the sweaters. Alfred forced them.
> 
> Also Bruce totally has the one of the pictures on his desk at work.


	8. Lazy Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has a sleepover at Jason's. It's more pleasant than expected.

In an odd turn of events, Tim ended up spending the night on Jason’s couch following a long night of crimefighting. “Wake up, Timmy.” Tim rustled on the sofa, ignoring Jason’s voice. "Get up, moron." Jason chucked a shoe at Tim, who promptly buried his face into the pillow. Tim could hear him sipping tea.

“Stooooooop, that hurts,” Tim whined, tightly wrapping the bundle of blankets around himself. Jason threw another shoe. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I know.” Jason walked over, placing a cat onto Tim’s back. “Attack.”

"You have a cat?" Tim grumbled. 

"I have seven cats," Jason informed.

"Holy shit," Tim spoke, his voice muffled in the pillow, "The heck is wrong with you."

"Don't judge," Jason leaned against the sofa. Tim chose to abandon the cat interrogation, in fear of being thrown off the warm, comfy sofa.

“This cat's name is...?” Tim groaned as the cat attempted to sit on his skull. The cat meowed apathetically.

“Avocado,” Jason answered without hesitation.

“You have a cat named Avocado?” Tim wondered why he even bothered asking.

“Obviously. And there’s also Melon, Eggplant, Lychee, Lime, Kale…..and of course, Whiskey.”

“What the fuck, Jason.”

“I dunno.” Jason gave no further explanation, shrugging. Tim rolled over onto his back, squinting at the ceiling. Avocado meowed again and sprawled onto Tim’s chest.

“What time is it? I feel like I’ve died,” Tim remarked.

“It’s 12:14pm and literally same,” Jason commented. Tim raised his arm, flipping his middle finger. "Damn, babybird is mean in the morning." Jason chuckled as he removed Whiskey from the sparkling white granite countertop, the cat meowing in protest. “I’m making food, what do you want?”

Tim launched into a sitting position, his eyes shining as he looked at Jason. His hair stood up in several gravity-defying directions. “I love brunch.” Avocado leapt off, annoyed with Tim’s constant shifting. Tim frowned at the cat, disappointed he hadn’t forced it to stay with him on the sofa.

“Okaaaaay, well that's simple enough.” Jason began pulling cookware from his cabinets. “I hope you like poached eggs, toast, and bacon. Maybe some tomatoes? Hm. We could use some cheeses too. Do you like green onions?” Jason glanced over, awaiting Tim’s response.

Tim stared at Jason in disbelief. “You know you’re the best Robin, right?” Tim grinned, wrapping his head around with a blanket and resting his chin at the top of the sofa. Jason blinked in surprise, momentarily ceasing all movement in the kitchen.

“Damn straight,” Jason smiled after the long pause, accepting the compliment. “The coolest bro you’ve got,” Jason mumbled, just barely loud enough for Tim to hear. Tim’s heart thumped, excited to be experiencing his childhood dream of being friends with Jason. His actual favorite Robin. “What the hell are you smiling at?” Jason huffed. Tim ignored the question and flopped back onto the couch, content with his present situation. “Nerd.”

This, Tim thought to himself as he closed his eyes. This is what I’ve always wanted in a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has turned into way more than just cleaning, dang. But it's my pride and joy. Thank you for your kind comments!


	9. Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick encounters Jason at a bar.

Dick stood still, looking through the front window of the dimly lit bar. A familiar face sat inside, absentmindedly swirling his glass. Dick walked up to the window slowly, hoping the alcohol lowered the perceptiveness of the man inside. The young man tiredly looked down at his drink, as if the amber liquid held a vital secret. “Jason?” Dick murmured. Jason’s shoulders drooped as his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. It was clear the young man at the bar was internally struggling with something. Dick located the door, pausing when he grasped the handle. Dick felt unsure of his next steps.

Dick pushed his thoughts aside and wandered in, peering into the bar area. One of the employees passed by, putting on his jacket for the mild night weather. "Hey, sorry to bother you," Dick tried to shoot the least threatening smile he could, "Is that guy here a lot?" Dick covertly pointed at Jason’s backside. “He’s a friend of mine.” The man raised an eyebrow, but didn't question Dick's motives.

"Looks kinda mean but actually a nice guy?” The man asked. Dick nodded. “He's a regular here," he informed. Dick raised an eyebrow. “He saved my bar once, y'know." Dick's eyes widened. "Yeah, some guy tried to rob us a couple of months ago. Without his help, we'd be shit out of luck."

Dick glanced back over at Jason, who was still staring at glass, looking as though he were ready to disappear. "Sorry, I just...I haven't seen him in a while," Dick somewhat lied, “Thanks.” The man shrugged and walked out the door.

Dick walked over to Jason, sitting down on the empty barstool next to him. The bartender, a young lady with dark, messy ponytail, looked over at him. "Hey, I'll have a cosmopolitan." The woman smirked for a second, waiting for Dick to amend his order. Dick looked back at her with a dead serious look. Surprised, she turned around to make the drink.

Dick looked at Jason, realizing his brother’s shoulders were trembling. Jason let out a loud laugh. "You're an idiot." Dick grinned, patting Jason on the shoulder. "What the fuck do you want?"

"A drink, obviously," Dick stated without elaborating. The bartender placed his pink drink on the bar. “Thanks.”

"Another whiskey for me, on the rocks," Jason told the bartender.

"Gross." Dick made a scrunched face.

"You drink like an underage sorority girl," Jason commented as he rolled his eyes. 

Dick pouted. “You drink as if you’re already someone’s grandpa.” Jason smirked as the bartender pushed his refilled glass towards him. "It's so unnecessary." Three women were staring at the two of them from across the bar. Dick held his martini glass, full of the pink liquid, and winked as he sipped on his drink. The women blushed and laughed, amused with the flirting.

"See? It works," Dick smiled. “And I didn’t even have to drink gasoline.”

Jason ruffled his white streak of hair and scowled at Dick. "Everything works for you, fucknut. You could drink from a juice box and get the same reaction. Besides, I happen to like it when my alcohol doesn’t taste like a sugary mess." Dick pretended to be offended as he feigned his best surprised face.

“If you’re jealous, I can teach you to pick up ladies, lil bro. Or dudes. Whatever you’re into, I guess. I have no idea if my advice works for them too though.” Dick laughed as Jason punched him lightly in the arm. “Whaaat? Married to your work or something?” Jason sighed as Dick started rambling about his relationship with Barbara in great detail.

Jason took another swig. Or several. Dick’s words blended into a blur after a couple more drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of the Jason/Dick night out. Stay tuned.
> 
> (I haven't updated in a couple months, huh...I appreciate all of your comments!)


	10. Cosmopolitan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2/2 of Jason & Dick's nighttime drinking adventure.

"I'ma gonna gooo home," Jason stood up, slightly wobbling. He slapped a generous tip onto the bar. 

"Isn't your apartment….like a thirty minute walk from here?" Dick commented, somewhat less drunk than his brother. "Stooop, my place is nearby. Come on." Dick clumsily tried to grab Jason’s arm.

"Fuck off, Dickiebird," Jason drawled, swatting Dick’s hand away. "ya drink pink drinks like a fucking asshat."

“Come on man, it’s Richard, your buuuuddy,” Dick pulled Jason's jacket, hauling him outside. "I said, come oooon dude."

“Ugh fine. I guess since you’re my buddy an all, Richie,” Jason mumbled some incoherent garbage about “how much he hated his brother Dick”, as though Dick were not present.

“So...he like...wears these fucking...goddamn...leotards to fight. With bluuuue stripes on his fingers! Who does that, y’know?”

Dick humored him and joined in on trash talking himself.

“I heard he’s suuuper jealous of his lil bros sick hair streak, so he has to compensate somehow.”

Jason gasped in shock. “I knew it!”

~~~

Dick was finally able to drag Jason to his apartment. He sat Jason onto the sofa. “Go to bed, man.” Dick ordered. "I gotta shower." Dick made his way into the bathroom and locked the door. He knocked down several products as he showered, suddenly grateful that he didn't have long hair to wash while fairly wasted.

Dick finished his shower and noticed the smell of...chemicals? He stumbled out of the bathroom, only wearing his Superman pajama pants. "Jay???"

Dick froze in the doorway. Jason was standing on his coffee table, wobbling as he washed the windows. "Suuuuup." Jason slurred, still very, very, very much drunk.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing." Dick was somewhat disappointed that Jason's tomfoolery was forcing him to sober up.

"I can't SLEEP," Jason bit back, "Your fuuuucking apartment is fuuuucking GROSS."

Dick rolled his eyes. "It's just the damn windows. Wait. Did you dust in here? And fold my clothes?!"

"Um, duuuh." Jason shakily stepped off the table. "And uh, yeah, I did." Jason hiccuped. "I thought you died in the shower, ya took so long."

"Jay, you're wasted. Go to bed." Dick ordered. Jason raised an eyebrow. 

"Your pants are on inside out." Jason laughed. "You're just as drunk as I am, Dickie." Jason continued shifting around. "Where's your sucky cleaning thing?"

"...You mean a vacuum?"

"Ye-ye-yeah. That thing." Jason aimlessly waved his hand around. Dick suddenly regretted not simply walking Jason to his own apartment. “Where do I put away the glass cleaner?" Jason opened the fridge. He laughed. "Oh." Dick was beginning to consider just throwing Jason into the apartment hallway for the night.

"Jason, get out of there," Dick swatted Jason's hands from the overhead cabinets, scowling at his inebriated younger brother. "It's 4:30 in the morning dude!" Jason leaned over and rested his head on Dick's shoulder. 

"Wow, I had to lean down lower than I thought." Jason snorted, amused.

“Fuck you," Dick hissed. "I'm drunk, tired, and I don't have the patience to watch you drunkenly mess up my apartment."

"Mess up??" Jason slurred, "You're lucky! I'm gonna make this place sparkle like a - like a thing that sparkles," Dick glared at Jason, "Like those antiques after Alfred's done with 'em."

"Eloquent." Dick stated.

"Go jump off of a building, birdie," Jason tripped over the rug as he walked, but managed to catch himself. Dick laughed. "I'm NOT that drunk."

"Sure, Jay. Whatever you want to tell yourself." Dick crossed his arms, smugly watching Jason stumble towards his table. "I know I am, and you definitely drank more than I did. Idiot."

"Do you ever like, wash the floors?" Jason muttered. "It's sticky here." Dick groaned, grabbing Jason by the sleeve and dragging him to the sofa.

"SLEEP, JASON. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD." Dick pleaded. He was dizzy, sleepy, and all he wanted was to fall into his soft, cozy bed.

"I can't," Jason whined, gesturing his arms outward. Jason's mouth slanted into a childish pout. Dick nearly took a step back, realizing Jason was using his own signature technique. He was impressed, yet terrified that Jason was so desperate to use his own skill against him. 

"Why." Dick grimly asked, suddenly understanding why it worked so well on Bruce.

"It's just too messy. Just let me clean and then I'll sleep. Prooooomise." Jason, 22 years old, over 6 feet in height, the tallest in the entire Wayne household, was somehow still capable of looking childishly cute.

"Fine," Dick groaned.

Dick tiredly watched his adoptive brother organize the apartment for the next 15 minutes, until Jason finally collapsed on the floor while rearranging the bookshelf (Alphabetically - by author, of course. Too bad being wasted meant that Jason reinvented the order of the alphabet).

"Finally," Dick moaned, dragging a snoring Jason to the couch. Dick chucked a blanket onto Jason, not watching where it landed. "He can cover his damn self up," Dick grumbled and trudged to his bed. "Fucking nuisance."

~~~

"Oh fuuuck, my head," Jason held his forehead and squinted, the room spinning slightly. He sat up, confused with his surroundings. "Why the hell am I in your apartment?"

"We got hella turnt together?" Dick said in a monotone, hardly concerned. He was sitting, his legs crisscrossed, on the kitchen counter. Dick shrugged as he sipped his coffee.

"Over my resurrected body." Jason looked around the room. "Damn, Dick. When did you start cleaning? Or did Alfie come recently? It actually looks like a livable human habitat in here. For once." Jason looked at the windows. "Looks like a drunk guy attacked your windows, though."

Dick looked off into the distance, convinced that somehow, somewhere, he was being filmed.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment."

"What?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my gift to all of you. Thank you for the kind comments on this story, it really keeps me motivated to write more. I appreciate the love you guys have shared for this fic! 
> 
> On another related note, I was drinking one time with two other friends. Two of us are very neat people, the other is noticeably more messy. When we woke in the morning, we discovered that my other neat freak friend and I drunkenly folded our messy friend's laundry and organized her room.
> 
> Shit like this happens real life, apparently. Jason's drunk cleaning is a bit more ambitious than mine though.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment with any Jason being tidy thoughts, your comments inspire me.
> 
> Stay tuned for more of Jason's tidy cleaning habits. Ha.


End file.
